Boar-getting

One evening last week while getting ready to settle down for a winter evening by the fire, my phone rang. An excited voice (a neighbour aka young handsome crack-shot boar-hunter) asked if we wanted a boar - freshly killed.  Naturally we abandoned the cozy fireside, pulled on wellingtons, put ropes, a shovel, tarpaulin and torches in the car and raced off to the square to pick up "our" guide.  Three huge men piled into the back seat, and off we drove to the top of the village, left the car at the side of the road, and one party set off with the gear into the bush, while I stayed behind in the car with Mr senior hunter.  All in the dead of night in the freezing cold.  For a while we could see their torches flitting in and out of the scrub, then all was quiet, as we chatted together to pass the time....
In due course the boar-getting party re-appeared, seeming to race down the slope, and we set off in the car to meet them at the edge of the next field.  Negotiating a fence took a while, but eventually we were all re-united at the roadside.  Just as we were contemplating how to heave a dead animal into the back of the car, an audience arrived - three cars and the village bus all at once to see what we were up to.

We eventually got to bed in the small hours of the night, leaving the boar hung up safe from the wild things, eviscerated, decapitated & cleaned, ready for another day..  CT